These tractors are a goddamned pain in the ass.

Not the old ones, which were built to survive the third world war, but the new machines with their pretty looks. Prone to breakdowns whenever you need them most. That's why I'm inside this beast's shell, hands in her guts.

Building frustration is the only extra warmth I get in the twenty degree cold.

Normally, I'd have spat out the flashlight pinched in my teeth a few times over, struck by the need to swear like a sailor.

Not today. It's different since I woke up, my dick a little sore and a few faint scratch marks on my back. Red has all the makings of a wildcat in bed for any man who puts in the time to train her.

He clearly isn't me, but fuck, what happened last night was fun. Something I needed for a good long while.

It's drained the poison from my skull, letting me work with a patience and a focus I haven't had for months. Maybe years.

I shine the light higher, find the half-stripped bolt I missed the first time around, and grab my wrench. It isn't long before I've got that bastard off, freeing the parts underneath. Takes half an hour to solve what should be a day long problem.

Thing I've always liked about good sex isn't just the momentary burn. It's the inspiration, the focus, the peace that hits later.

It's almost lunchtime. If I get moving, the owner can even pick up his machine today. Which I'm sure he'll need with a major snow dump in the forecast later this week. Most guys here draft their farming equipment for snow removal off harvest season.

I'm wiping my hands clean on a rag when I hear the loud ka-thunk outside. Either Frankenstein has shown up outside my shop, or it's a vehicle groaning in agony.

I rush out and see a flustered Red in the driver's seat. Her brother's truck. Mia sits behind her, tucked into her hoodie. Her little blue eyes are anxious from the racket.

“Turn it off!” I growl, tapping on the window.

Red kills the engine before she rolls it down. There's a knowing look in her eye behind the concern for the truck's life. “Ugh, sorry. The guy at the garage told me it was good to go. Doesn't sound like it's fixed!”

“Take Mia. I'll open her up and see what I can do.”

“Really? Okay. Thanks, Marshal.” Her smile is different today. It's appreciative, subtle, more secret than before.

I know that look.

It's how a woman lays eyes on a man after he's bent her over and fucked her senseless. After he's owned her. Normally, I don't care, but this? It makes me look the hell away before I get too hard to be useful.

Mia chirps through the open door, helpfully banishing the thoughts. I grab my little girl out of the kiddie seat and pass her to my nanny, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Behave. Daddy needs to get this fixed before you head to town.”

Honeybee tugs my stubble before I set her down. I rub my chin, wondering if I should just sprout a true beard. It's winter. Also might help us avoid a few uncomfortable stares. Less Castoff freak whispers when they think I can't hear, too.

I reach up, fixing my hat so it's protecting my ears, and stomp into the shop to grab my tools. I spend the next twenty minutes trying to find the problem.

Every evil demon comes to whisper in my ear. It's hard working with murder on my mind.

If there was ever a golden opportunity to kill Jackson Kelley, it's in my fucking lap.

My eyes comb over the truck's innards. The truck's real problem is an easy fix. A simple belt replacement. That's not why I'm staring into this thing like I'm face-to-face with the Reaper himself.

A small adjustment here, a snip of the brake line there, and I could end this.

Hell, figuring out how to get the truck back in his hands without killing anybody else wouldn't be difficult, if I really put my mind to it.

Every evil second that demon whispers louder in my ear, calling me a fool to pass this up. Heaven fucking help me.

My blood runs hot the longer I work. Zane, Adam, Erik.

Their faces flash by like bad memories. I hear them over my shoulder, speaking bloodlust in my ear, begging me to honor my promise.

Do what you said, Captain. Avenge us. Get the hell on with your life.

Jesus, I want to.

Do I fucking ever!

There's a loud giggle behind me and something hits my boot. The spirits banish in a cloud of snow dusting my feet.

I sit up and turn. Mia laughs in Sadie's arms, nanny crouched over her, a small pile of snowballs at their feet. “No, no, honeybee. He's busy. How about you throw them at the tree instead?” I notice the half-built snowman a few feet away once they're coming closer.

“Sorry. We were just playing. Things got a little out of hand.” Red's bashful smile hangs on her lips. She's got a good hold on little Mia, the way it should be, keeping her from more mischief.

“Just a little longer, ladies. Quick tweak or two, and you'll be on your way.”

“Great. I'll probably just drop it at my parents' place. Jackson can pick it up whenever. Maybe stop for lunch with mom. She's good with children, despite her issues.” Her smile weakens, staring down at a hyper Mia clinging to her leg.

I turn, ignoring her, and start working the metal. Wish I had a radio. Maybe then they wouldn't be inclined to hang around while I fix the little starter problem.

Maybe I'd think twice about creating a new one guaranteed to be fatal.

“How is your brother, anyway?” I ask softly. What's my best chance to trap him in a pile of crunched metal is what I really mean.

“Uh, he's okay, I guess.” She's as surprised as anybody I'm asking about him. “Busy with his business. Checking on our folks when he isn't. Living life.”

“He's a lucky man if he doesn't think about Afghanistan anymore. Very lucky, stupid SOB.” It'd be weird not to put a jab in there. I have to keep her guessing – especially with the tiny puncture in the brake line.

It'll bleed fluid for hours. Nice and slow. Just enough to let me drive it safely, if I'm careful, but not so long the asshole can avoid major problems next time he's on the roads.

My brain ticks through the possibilities, how I can lure him to the dangerous, isolated stretches by the bluffs. A fake emergency call from a burner phone, maybe. I'll trail him, just to be safe. Give his vehicle the last nudge over the cliff, into the trees, through the ice coating the Mississippi.

“Like I said, he's busy, Marshal.” She's still talking. “He's kind of a jerk sometimes, too. Married life changed him somewhat for the better that way – but not enough. Oh well. Maybe the new baby will do the trick.”

Baby? I jerk up so hard I narrowly avoid denting my head on the hood. “What baby?”

She cocks her head, amused. “His wife, Ginger, she's pregnant. Barely made the announcement a month ago. I can't wait to be an aunt, honestly.”

Shit, shit, shit. My best laid plans go to slag before my eyes. Mia murmurs behind me.

I can't do it. Not now. I can't risk killing a pregnant woman and her kid, if asshole decides to ride with her, or God forbid lets her drive instead. I won't do it, even if the odds are worse than going down in a plane crash with the winning fucking lotto numbers in your pocket.

Shit!

I'm so done. Digging the tape out of my tool box, I wrap up the damage I just caused.

Then I look a frozen Red in the eye while I lie through my teeth. “His brake line's bad. Sorry. You'll have to get the guys at the garage to take a look. It's getting late and I've got crap to do. I checked the fluid and patched it up as best I could. It's drivable, but I don't have time for a replacement job.”

“Oh, no. It's okay! Thanks for trying.”

The worst part is, she actually sounds grateful.

“I still need to get it back today. I'll let them know it needs some work. They can take it from there.”

“Follow me over to your parents' house. I'll drive this thing, just to make sure it holds up like it should.” I feel like I've taken a direct hit to the gut, especially once Red leans in, closes her eyes, and stamps a quick, discrete peck on my cheek.

I'm all kinds of fucked now. Screwed, blued, and tattooed.

I need to kill her goddamned brother. But how do I make that happen when, as much as I'm too sick to admit it, I'm starting to need her smile?

* * *

The truck runs fine on the first few miles to her parents' house. No surprises.

The poison eating my guts is another story.

I tell myself the same shit over and over: hands on the wheel. Focus. Don't let it fucking get to you.

Every time, it's nothing. I just see Adam in my head, giving me that look I'll never forget before we rushed the compound.

“Sir, if we don't make it out of this for some reason...give my best to Bev. Take care of her. She's only one state over.”

My eyes drill through him. A nervous tick stings my face for reasons I don't understand. “Shut the fuck up, Henderson. It's the same song and dance we've done a thousand times. In, out, marked, and clear before the hawks swoop in to mop up the remains. Easy.”

That's how it should've been. I stormed through the brittle gate with my unit telling myself it was, repeating the lie. I began to believe it.

Then we got hit. Pinned down in the ambush those fuckers laid, the one we would've avoided if someone hadn't pushed his bad intel. The place wasn't nearly as unguarded as Jackson's friends in a Pashtun clan said. A fuck of a lot less deserted than the drone photos showed, too, which must have caught them when they were concealed, out on patrol, who knows.

His mistake was the worst fucking hour of my life.

First I watched two of my men, two of my best friends, cut to pieces. Zane and Erik, knees cut out under them, heavy rounds that wouldn't stop after they hit the dirt. Adam was the last man alive, his leg chewed up by sniper fire.

I tried to save him. Tried so fucking hard.

But the asshole, Lieutenant Jackson Kelley, knew we were hosed. He called for air support without checking if my team was clear, thinking we were already dead. Or maybe the prick just ignored my screams over the radio, too fucked up and damaged to go straight to command.

I'll never know what he heard, or didn't. It doesn't really matter.

I know what happened next.

In another life, it might've been a miracle I survived the screaming shrapnel whizzing by my head with nothing worse than a clean slice across the forehead. But there was nothing miraculous about what was left of Adam.

One blinding flash and he was gone. Most of him. I still held his hands. The rest of him long since swept away in chaos and fire from above.

“Shit!”

Back in the present, I slam on the brakes. The black ice on the road nearly runs me into a ditch, and I have to work to pump the bandaged brakes, slowing the vehicle just short of a dip in the Mississippi.

Red's car in front of me never slows. Apparently, she doesn't notice. I'm grateful because Mia's with her.

It'd be too sick an irony for my little girl to see daddy suffer the same fate that took the bitch who gave her birth. I may be fucked in the head, but I'm not ready to die. I'm not giving up, however rough this gets.

Not today. Not tomorrow. Not while I have promises to keep.

* * *

“Ugh. Great timing.” Worry strains Red's voice, instantly catching my attention.

“What now?” I growl, slamming the truck's door. We're parked in front of an average upper middle class house in town, her walking slowly toward me, Mia in her arms.

She doesn't know I was already here Christmas night. That's something I'll keep to myself.

“She shouldn't be out here in this weather. Just...play along, Marshal. Please.” I follow her eyes to the lonely figure on the porch. It's an older, thinner woman with a restless darkness in her eyes.

She's standing there, watching us, not a flicker of recognition in her face until Red opens up. “Hi, mom! Whatcha doing outside?”

So, this is her. The mysterious Mrs. Kelley, the woman who gave the most beautiful girl I ever laid eyes on life, and the only person in this town who might be more screwed up than me.

“What does it look like? I was hoping you'd bring a little angel here to keep me company one day.” Her face lights up, eyes fixed on my daughter. “What's your name, sugar?”

Mia chews her lip, snuggling shyly into Red's arms. I reach for her, knowing she'll feel better with daddy. Honestly, so will I, not knowing what level of crazy I'm dealing with.

“Mia, ma'am. That's her name. But she also goes by honeybee sometimes,” I answer for my little girl.

Red's eyes pop and she turns her head, then sends another uneasy look toward her mom. “We're just here to drop off Jackson's truck. Where's dad?”

“Oh, who the hell knows? Putzing around the house, pretending to keep an eye on me, I'm sure. It's nice to get some fresh air during his naps. I could never get out when you were around, after all.”

Sadie winces. It's slightly amusing seeing her dancing on serious eggshells, but what kind of prick would I be if I didn't offer her an out?

“Tell your son he's got major brake problems. That thing should be towed or driven very, very carefully. I'd have done the job myself, but we're out of time.”

Mrs. Kelley perks up, giving Red a sideways glance. “Nice find, dear. Every woman appreciates a man who's good with his hands.”

Red nearly falls over. Mia peeks over my shoulder and laughs at the awkward gesture, clapping her hands. I don't let on how much it shocks me.

“She's on my payroll. Nothing more.” I give her my hardest look, but it doesn't do jack. Already hate how easily this crazy woman can see through my lies.

“And you must be the jackass who punched my son in the face a few years ago?” Mrs. Kelley smiles. I freeze, trying to figure out how to handle this delicately, but the nut is on a roll. “Frankly, you did him some good. We'd gotten tired of him moping around, always so sour over his arm. I told the boy no woman would care about a little loose skin. That fight knocked some sense into him, I think. Sure enough, he buckled down and found Ginger not long after your little melee.”

I stare right through her. This isn't the crazy I expected. Should also piss me off, learning I inadvertently helped the man I want dead, assuming she's telling the truth. Too fucking bad I'm standing here in the cold, trapped in the most awkward four way stare down I've seen for years.

“You should really come in and warm up, dear,” Mrs. Kelley says, breaking the frigid silence. “It's freezing out here.”

Red opens her mouth to protest, but her mother won't hear it. She turns her back, flings the screen door open, and holds it for us.

“I'm so sorry,” Red whispers, nudging my side.

“For what? I can sit down and talk like a normal human being, you know. Come on.” She waits impatiently.

Invitation accepted. What's the harm? Stepping inside, I set Mia down gently.

Her little nose twitches the second her feet are on the ground. “Daddy, is that...chocolate?!”

Red's mother grins and gives a brisk nod, then starts walking. Honeybee runs after Mrs. Kelley, disappearing around the corner into the kitchen. My fists ball silently at my sides, wondering what the hell we'll really find on the other side.

It's shocking because it's so normal. By the time Red and I join them, Mrs. Kelley is pouring a steaming mug of sweetness. She drops a couple fat marshmallows in the brew before reaching for a sippie lid for the cup.

Crazy or not, she's still got her wits. I help Mia to the table and put her in the nearest chair, leaning down. “Drink it slowly, honeybee. You don't want to burn your tongue.”

Leave it to my little genius to blow through the tiny opening, trying to cool her treat faster. At least it's a nice distraction while Red gets her own cocoa. Mrs. Kelley gives me a knowing smile when she grabs a third empty cup, walks to another thermos on the counter, and pushes it open. “Black coffee. Just the way you like it?”

I nod. Fuck, am I really so cliché?

Doesn't change the fact that the stuff feels like thermal heaven, sliding down my throat a second later. We sit, Red next to me. Her hand moves anxiously, unthinkingly into my lap. My reassuring squeeze could crush diamond.

“Glad you let me borrow your daughter,” I say, taking another pull off my coffee. “She's been a godsend for business. Couldn't get half the crap done without her.”

“She's a grown woman. Much too old to waste her time chasing a mad woman.”

“Mom!” Red's fingers pinch mine. “Don't be so hard on yourself. It's not like –“

“It's exactly like that, Sarah. I've spent years at the end of my artistic rope, completely uninspired after that droll little series of birch trees I painted several winters ago. Why people in this town still ask for them every so often, no clue.” She shrugs. “They certainly weren't buying.”

“It's because you don't give yourself enough credit, mom. You're good at what you do. So what if the tree scenes got old? These things come in cycles. You can do anything. Someday, I'm sure you'll get your groove back.” My eyes drift over. I've never seen a smile on Red's face so forced.

That's really saying something after the hell I put her through.

“About that...” Mrs. Kelley's gaze shifts to me. They have the same green eyes, leaving me to wonder if her hair was also once the same cinnamon sweetness I love pulling. “Tell me, Mr. Castoff, have you ever had a portrait?”

I'm so taken back by the question the nickname doesn't sting. “Have I...what?”

“Been painted. Drawn. Put to canvas. Captured all your tall, dark majesty in pastel? Or maybe charcoal would be better?” Mrs. Kelley pushes a finger into the edge of her cheek, too deep in thought for my liking.

“Mom, no. You're not painting him. He's a busy man.”

My hand comes down on Red's, pinning hers gently to the table. It just fucking happens.

“I'm not the modeling type. Sorry, Mrs. Kelley, I'd help you out in another life, but this is a full season for me. Sadie's right. Too many projects lined up.” Like figuring out how I'm going to kill your son.

I keep the last thought to myself, obviously. The old lady looks through me like she can see my vicious secrets. “Such a shame. There's a lovely, unusual contrast between you and the girl. It's rare to see a man like you raising a child alone.”

“A man like me?” I thumb my chest. Sadie's look diffuses the indignation spiking my blood. As annoying as this is, I have to remember she isn't well. She can't mean any of this weird bullshit. “I wouldn't give up being a father for even a day. Mia keeps me sane.”

“So feisty!” Mrs. Kelley chirps. “I love it. It's such a shame you won't put those broody blue eyes to paper.”

“Paper, daddy?” Mia looks up, a smear of marshmallow and coca on her chin.

“That's right, honeybee. I'm begging for a chance to make the two of you immortal, but it seems your father has other ideas.” Mrs. Kelley smirks, clucking her tongue as she looks at my daughter. “My, what a sweet little thing you are. You just need a puppy to make this picture perfect.”

“Puppy, yeah!” Mia's little hands slap the table. I'm afraid she'll spill her cocoa. “Can we have one, daddy? Whiskey needs a friend.”

“Whiskey?” Mrs. Kelley forms a sly smile.

“Their cat, mother. I think we really should be going. We've overstayed our welcome.”

Mia draws my eyes. There's a guilt-inducing child sadness in them I hate.

Fuck. Nothing upsets me more than the cold reality I can't make her wishes come true. And the possibility I might be causing nightmares soon is always there, if Jackson isn't a clean kill.

I'm also licking my earlier defeat with the brake line plan. It hits me when I look back toward the mantle in the living room, where I see the photos. The smiling face of my enemy, younger and prouder in his uniform. Wedding photos, where he beams next to his trim young wife, not a shred of the men's lives he ended outside Kandahar on his face.

He's living the life my men should've had. Stolen it like the rat fucking thief he is, feeding off the misery he's left Adam's widow, Erik's mother, Zane's kid brother.

Wait. Life?

Another idea attacks my head so fierce it hurts my eyes.

It'd be insane to pump this crazy momma for info...wouldn't it?

Crazier still to use my presence around the house to get to him, bait him, box him in. A hunter on his family's turf. I choose my next words carefully.

“How about this, honeybee: we think about the puppy for another year or two? In the meantime, we'll let Mrs. Kelley give you whatever imaginary dog you'd like?” I look through my daughter, new guilt twisting my guts.

Damn it all. She's smiling and nodding her tiny head. If this works out, I will have to buy her that dog.

“Marshal? You don't have to do this.” Red's pretty green eyes are big and pleading, a question tangled up inside. Do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into?

I do. My last, best shot at ending Jackson quick and easy.

“Please, dear, let the man decide for himself!” Mrs. Kelley's voice takes on a sudden tension. It catches our full attention.

Red squeezes my hand, like she knows a volcano is about to go off. I smile, baring my teeth. “It's January. Not a whole hell of a lot to do around this town when it's fifteen below. You name a time, Mrs. Kelley, and I'll see what I can do.”

“Time for what?” An older, gruffer male voice speaks from behind the kitchen counter.

My eyes follow everybody else's to the thin sixty-something year old adjusting his spectacles. Clearly Sadie's old man.

“Oh, Peter, good news. I've found my muse again. Sit down, before you swallow your own tongue. He's here to help me, believe it or not.”

Red's grip on my hand becomes a vice. She mouths her next few words: Jesus. This is bad.

“What the hell is he doing here, Stephanie?” Peter steps closer, giving Red the evil eye.

It's my turn to stand. I've got to try and diffuse a clusterfuck for once, instead of setting it off.

“Dropped your son's truck off. You're welcome. We'll be showing ourselves the door.”

“Oh, Peter, give him a chance! He's not here to light the house on fire or anything.” Mrs. Kelley stands. Laying her hands on her husband's shoulders, she tries to smother the look of a man facing an intruder. “I want to paint him and his darling little girl. Don't make this difficult.”

“Paint him? In this house?” Peter faces Sadie again, his eyes darkening. He sees Mia, and I think it's the only reason he doesn't explode. “Did you put her up to this, Sadie?”

“Dad, calm down. I didn't do anything!” Red raises her hands, stretching them between us. “All her idea. Marshal's a good man, believe it or not. I say we let her.”

Her father's stare intensifies. So cold, cruel, bewildered, and fixed on her. You can't be fucking serious is written all over him.

“Has anyone even thought what Jackson will think?” he says.

“Yeah, I have.” I steal her old man's gaze. “I'll keep out of his way. What happened with us years ago is ancient history. I'll help your wife make art. I'm doing this for my little girl, and Sadie, too.”

A total lie. Several, probably. But it's also the one choice phrase that might let us walk out of here whole.

“I'll call later, dad. We'll talk then. Right now, we've got to go,” Sadie whispers in my ear, tugging on my shirt.

Finally a wise idea. I walk over to the table, grab Mia, and brush past Mrs. Kelley. She gives my shoulder a quick pat on the way out, dumping gasoline on the raging fire in this house. “I'll let Sadie give you the best times for my studio. It's nice to have something to look forward to again.”

Resisting the urge to cringe, we keep moving. Nothing matters more than getting the hell out of here, leaving the flaming wreckage behind.

* * *

“Christ, Marshal. You're really willing to sit there while she paints you? How will you get Mia to sit still for so long?” I'm crunched up in the passenger seat in her old Toyota. Feels more out of place than ever being blasted by her questions.

“We'll work it out, Red. Quit your worries. Mia's excited – aren't you, honeybee?” I look at my dozing daughter in the mirror.

She opens one little eye and nods vigorously, before passing out in the kiddie seat again. Who the hell can blame her? The tension we left behind was so thick it could choke a man. Takes its toll on a mind. So does the winter cold, newly sprinkled with a slow-moving, wispy snowfall.

We're leaving town, winding toward the bluffs as she drives.

“Why did you do this? Really, I mean? Won't it interfere with work? And, Jesus, the drama!” She brakes hard at the stop sign, just a few miles from the overgrown road winding into my place.

“Why're you flipping out when a man finally does you a favor, Red?” I watch her blink. “You told me your ma's not all there. She lost her marbles struggling with her muse or whatever, yeah?”

Slowly, Red nods. “Not your problem. You're paying me to look after Mia, remember? I don't need you fixing my family issues.”

“Didn't pay you for last night either,” I growl, reaching for her hand. “That was you and me. Not boss and nanny. Something else.”

“That was...” She pauses, leaving me to wonder if it's mistake at the tip of her tongue. “That was different. You and me, I mean. Nobody else to worry about with any of that. This is my mother, Marshal. My very screwed up, sometimes very scary mother.”

She shakes her head, bringing the car down the home stretch. I wait until we're parked. Then I reach over, cup her chin, and guide her face to mine. “Quiet. Just let me fucking help without making it so hard, beautiful.”

I glance at Mia. She's still fast asleep. I lean in, whispering the next part in Sadie's reddening ear. “You want to make this an even trade? Fine. Give me another taste of last night.”

There's no time to answer. My lips attack hers. Then they don't stop.

Thank fuck, too. Guilt and lies are no match for drowning in her sweetness. My dick throbs, angrier than usual, ready as hell to be in her.

Truth be told, I don't know what kind of mess I've just stepped in.

I'm not sure it even matters. I've got everything I could ever want in front of me. Today, I see the illusion of a perfect world.

If it weren't for the hit job breathing down my neck, I might be able to pretend I have a family.

* * *

January goes from white to red. It's cold, rage, frustration. Numbing days burn into long hard nights of fucking.

Red shares my bed now. I'm worried we'll slip up and Mia will wonder why we're sleeping in the same room, but it's not enough to stop taking her over the edge night after blistering night.

The need in my balls won't let me quit.

The animal ache on my lips every second they're not fused to hers is ready for tough questions. They'd rather speak to a thousand innocent concerns from honeybee than go one day without tasting this woman I've claimed.

She's getting more adventurous by the week. Some nights Red spends nearly an hour on her knees, my dick in her mouth, learning every nook and cranny of my bliss. I've lost my come in her mouth a few times.

It's heaven when it happens, but the aftermath is hell. I can't ignore that demon urge in the back of my mind that always wants to bust inside her, shoot my fire up her womb until she's mine, mine, so fucking mine.

Yes, she's on the pill. Good thing, too, or I'm not sure I'd ask what the fuck is going on. I'm not sure the sadistic beast inside me would care.

I'm no shrink, but I know what it's like when a man's subconscious gets obsessed with knocking pussy up.

Adam had that glint in his eye every time he talked about fucking Bev. He only had a chance to put one baby in her, sad to say, and remembering his mortality dials this demented need to fuck my nanny raw up to eleven.

The days are more tolerable. Work keeps my mind off sex and murder, but those ghosts in my ear are getting louder.

You said you'd do it, asshole. Make us proud. It's Zane's voice every time, his dead grey eyes hollowing out my soul. Tony can't even walk straight. Least you can do is let my kid brother know I didn't die for nothing.

Focus, douchebag. Focus, focus, focus. You can't let the asshole who melted my face keep breathing forever. Oh, and you'd better send my ma a card. Erik had a high school quarterback's good looks. Think that boy would've played the field forever back home in California if he hadn't gotten murdered.

Do it, Captain. For Bev. For Mikey. For me. You promised my family justice.

Yes, I did. Goddammit, I did, Adam, and no nighttime bliss I find with your killer's sis will ever let me forget.

It's just, the right opportunity hasn't shown up yet. Sadie keeps asking why I haven't gone on that big job out of town yet. I tell her it's delayed.

Even the cover story doesn't seem right anymore, and I have zilch in the blueprints department. Even the infrequent trips I make to the Kelley place with Mia and Red doesn't inspire any grand ideas.

Weeks go by, and I'm no closer to learning anything new about Jackson. No secret vulnerabilities or silver bullets lying around, ready.

We sit like statues upstairs while the old lady paints us. She's more animated than ever, moving like a woman possessed. Red says she's never seen her mother work so hard without a meltdown in years.

The first finished sketch in charcoal seems like a beauty. I'm a huge, dark shadow holding onto a sunbeam smiling in my arms. The imaginary puppy is a strange touch, a teacup poodle peeking out of my other hand.

I wish Mrs. Kelley would just call it there. But, of course, insanity always goes hand-in-hand with perfectionism.

We're supposed to show up before Valentine's Day again so she can do us in oils.

It's a lazy Saturday, one I've taken off work. I decide to drown my dead end frustration in pussy. I've got Red bent over the bed, her lush ass smacking my thighs every time I drive into her.

“Fuck me harder, darling. Harder!” My hand crashes into her ass. The other gives her cinnamon hair a harsh tug, showing her how fucking serious I am.

“Yes, yes – Marshal!” My name flies out of her mouth on fire. I tilt her head down a split second before she comes, smothering her screams in the pillow. Can't have her disturbing Mia's sleep, much as I want to howl to the moon.

I bite my tongue and taste blood. Her pussy melts, massaging my dick like pure silk.

My hips go berserk. I think the collision between our bodies will fucking break us, but it just sends an electric heat up my spine.

“Fuck!” I snarl it again, pounding into her, pushing the box spring to its limits. Her release unlocks mine.

My cock swells, lava surging in my balls, and then there's that point-of-no-return release that brings heaven to earth.

It's as good as a bastard like me is bound to get in this lifetime. Thick seed hurls up her in ropes, wrung from the depths of my balls by Red's tight sucking cunt. Her pussy is my end.

It's fire, divine and irresistible. It's mine. It's what I keep and what I crave, a steady addiction I'm afraid I'll never be able to walk away from.

My vision stops spinning after a while and I'm able to see the clock. Almost eight. Time to take a break from getting my rocks off long enough to make breakfast.

I pull out reluctantly like I always do and flop down. My lungs are never happier than they are when they're replenishing breath spent fucking this woman to Jupiter and back.

“It's early. Okay weather. We could do something today?” Red smiles, leaning over, her lips already a fresh temptation and her fingers grazing my chest.

“There's that river museum up the highway in Dubuque. Steamships and fish so big they could swallow Whiskey in a gulp.” I aim a dirty look outside the door. Right on cue, the cat is digging at the carpet, mewing for his morning breakfast.

“How exciting,” she says, rolling her eyes. But the softness in her gaze says sarcasm isn't the only thing on her mind. “Since you're finally asking me on a normal date, though...I'd be a fool to say no. Right?”

Shit.

Is that what this is? A goddamned date?

It doesn't feel wrong, necessarily. Not till I remember the kill I keep avoiding. The grin I didn't know I was wearing vanishes.

“Right. Get your crap together while I wash up. I'll wake honeybee. First we'll have bacon and eggs, then we'll get in my truck and make a day of it.”

I get up to move, but she's still in bed, staring with her arms crossed. “Wow. That was easy. Too easy. What gives?”

I shrug. “Can't a man treat his daughter and her nanny to a nice day out? Don't look too hard between the lines, Red. You'll hurt your pretty eyes.”

She laughs while I round her side of the bed, cup her cheek, and bury her in a long, ferocious kiss. It's not just because my lips need hers, but because I need a distraction.

I almost fucked up when I said my daughter and her nanny. I almost called Red my woman.

Christ.

I'm becoming too soft. Too derelict in duties I should've carried out long ago.

And good goddamn, it's increasingly harder to feel guilty every time Red wraps her little arms around my waist, and I pull her face to the nook of my neck.

While Mrs. Kelley's found her artistic muse in me and Mia, I've found a different inspiration in this beautiful, headstrong woman.

A calling to be a better man. A kinder, freer beast. A need to be more than a pent up wad of hate, venom, and impending violence.

First light I've seen since Mia at the end of this hellish torture tunnel. That's put my life in blackness ever since I left the war in pieces.

Can I let go of the kill? Find another way to make Jackson pay for his crimes?

I don't fucking know. I'm not ready to make any hard decisions today.

The fact that I'm even considering it tells me something has changed.

Red isn't just the best fuck of my life, or the fastest ticket to putting a smile on my little girl's face.

She's a second sun, shining brighter over everything, so sweet and hot and unexpected it burns.

If I give this more time and stretch out my arms, who the hell knows what might happen next?

Her warmth might thaw the black ice wrapped around my heart like a prison.

Her light may inspire a fresh insanity I never imagined, without the hurt, the obsession, the cancerous secrets.

Her kiss could be my second chance at becoming human again.